


do I terrify you? / or do you feel alive?

by janetcarter



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Self-Hatred, Smut, Taunting, Unrequited Love, hate sex maybe?, kinda self harm through sex, lennier hates himself more than he hates morden somehow but u get the point, probably takes place late season 3?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/pseuds/janetcarter
Summary: What exactlydoesLennier want? He isn't going to tell Morden of all people, no matter how many times he asks.





	do I terrify you? / or do you feel alive?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WildandWhirling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildandWhirling/gifts).



> Wildandwhirling has ruined me with this ship sooooo here you go, Rachel! Suffer as I have suffered. Also, thank you for being a wonderful beta as always <3  
> For general readers, please keep in mind there is nothing healthy about what's portrayed. It's all for the sake of fun and torturing fictional characters, not for replicating in reality.  
> Lastly, this is the first time I've posted smut and the first time I've written M/M so please be kind <3 This is super new territory for me… as it is for Lennier.  
> Title is from "Become the Beast" by Karliene.

Lennier's doorbell did not chime often. If it did, it was usually another aide setting up an appointment with Delenn. Sometimes it was station personnel looking for Delenn. Once, it was Captain Sheridan brimming with questions so he could impress Delenn. It was always someone looking for Delenn; never someone here for him.

Could he really blame them? Delenn was the epitome of compassion. She was the woman who cared for everyone else infinitely more than she did for herself. She was the most kind, intelligent, respectable person he had ever known.

And what was he? Nothing but a dutiful little assistant. He was grateful to bask in her light for even a second of the day. It felt silly to hope that _she_ would ever be at his doorstep. And yet he did. Every single time someone was at his door, a small sliver of him threatened to explode as he hoped and prayed it'd be her bright, intuitive eyes on the other side.

It never was.

Despite his unrelentingly foolish hope, there was no mystery who had rung the bell this time. Something about Morden's slimy presence was detectable from a sector away.

The door slid open to Morden's dark eyes studying him. It seemed like he was always calculating ways to get inside Lennier's head. "Good evening, Lennier."

"What do you want?" Lennier hardly waited for Morden to say his name, causing it to clash with the question.

"Funny." Morden confidently tugged his tie. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Lennier shook his head as anger rose in his chest. Morden played by his own rules. He did not expect him to listen, but at this point… He was like an insect that refused to be swatted. He could buzz around wherever he pleased but landing right on Lennier's hand? Showing up at his quarters? It crossed a line.

"I thought I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you."

"So you said, but I thought I'd give you one more chance at the question. Really think long and _hard_ this time, Lennier. What," he asked, shooting him that sly grin, "do you want?"

Lennier clenched his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to shut the door in his cunning face, but Morden was standing right in center-frame. So he went over the question again carefully, the one that had been tormenting him since they first met: What did he want?

He wanted Delenn. Well, he wanted Delenn to be happy. He wanted Delenn to love him even a fragment of how he loved her. His heart twisted like a cloth rung out in blood.

"I want nothing I can have."

Morden squinted before moving closer. Lennier hated how it caused his heart to race. Was he trying to intimidate him? He could almost feel Morden's warm breath on his face, which wasn't very intimidating. It smelled like herbs, the kind that stung his tongue as its fresh coolness spread through his mouth.

"Not a single wish? Not money? Not power? Not a… a certain someone? You should know by now, Lennier. With the snap of my fingers…" He snapped in a way that made Lennier's breath hitch. The suddenness was only part of why. As corny as the move was, Morden basked in his own brilliance. "I can make anything you want a reality."  

Lennier's nails dug into his palm. Who was he to think he could control other people's lives? He couldn't change Delenn's feelings. No one, especially not Delenn, could ever love him. Morden knew it, and yet for months pestered him with false promises and fantasies.

He hated him for it. He hated him for his taunts and his all-knowing attitude and the way he always blocked his path when he needed it least. He especially hated that, no matter how ill-intentioned, Morden's interest in him was more than Delenn would ever have.

For once, Lennier was the one blocking Morden's path. He could have walked away or told him to leave and never come back--not that he would listen. But even on the days Morden was not around, every thought still rang with his reminders. Everywhere he looked in the Zocalo he saw him there, telling him the truth as if Lennier did not know it for himself. Maybe… Maybe until now, he truly didn't.

After hours of shattered fantasies and months of preparing rituals and years of coming back to his quarters alone… There was only one thing left he could have. There was Morden, so close to him. There were those feelings, the only ones he was allowed to feel. He could dive in headfirst. He could surrender to the guilt and self-hatred rotting inside for loving her as he did. But could he really betray her trust and his loyalty to her?

Sheridan’s obnoxious laughter rang through his head. Earlier that day, over a dinner Lennier had prepared him and Delenn, he had been caught up in his own “funny” story. It wasn’t humorous at all, even if Sheridan could barely get through the punchline, but Delenn had still laughed. Just because she resembled humans, it did not mean she enjoyed their humor, did it? Regardless, she looked at him like he was the entire universe, shining in the form of one man's smile.

Lennier could disappear and she wouldn't even bat an eye.

"What do I want?" Lennier's bottom lip trembled.

Morden's cologne reminded him of the one human businessmen use, clean and artificial. The space between them narrowed like the spaces between his journal pages after tightly locking his secrets inside. As the intoxicating scent filled him, he thought about all those odes to Delenn…

Delenn, who did not love him. Delenn, who never would. Delenn, Delenn, _Delenn._

Delenn wasn’t here.

Morden just wanted to watch him squirm. It was how he was with Vir, too, every time he approached them when they drank together. But there was a different glint tonight in his eyes when they were alone; a glint so small it was invisible to anyone who wasn't looking, but it spoke volumes about what the Generous Giver wanted for himself. Part of Lennier wanted to satisfy that lust where he couldn't satisfy anything else.

There was something about Morden, hard against him as his breath warmed his jaw, that drew him in closer. Morden's teeth grazed his ear before his lips kissed down his neck. Lennier didn't protest. His mind was overtaken by some drunken haze, lightheaded as his blood flowed somewhere else.

_"It is strange, is it not, Lennier?" she once asked, combing her fingers through dark strands it in wonder._

A door hissed shut.

_He had stood beside her, just close enough for her to guide his fingers beneath her crest._

Morden's hair felt nothing like it, short and slick.

_He had known she could feel him trembling, but he felt so safe in her steady grasp…_

He was trembling now, too.

His lips crashed into Morden's and his shaky hands took control. Morden's surprise soon turned to intrigue as Lennier unbuttoned his pants and shoved him against the couch. He heard that low laugh coupled with an "I like this side of you, Lennier" as Morden lowered his pants and leaned back. "You should let it out more often."

It didn't take long for Lennier to lower his mouth and take him in, hands rounding the base. His tongue stroked down Morden's shaft and left it slick as his hands worked.

"Good little Minbari," Morden said, low voice smooth despite his unsteady breath. His hands traveled around Lennier's crest, encouraging him, rewarding him with small strokes. Lennier shivered as Morden's fingertips glided down the nape of his neck. When Lennier's tongue circled Morden's wet tip and swirled just beneath it, Morden's nails dug in below his crest. It seemed that in humans, or at least Morden's case, this spot was most favorable.

Morden's jagged moans and breathing were music to his ears, causing pressure to swell beneath his robes. He kept his focus on Morden, though. His needs could wait. His needs could always, always wait. Morden arched into him before finally reaching his peak, spilling onto Lennier's tongue. His grip on his neck, which was now loosening, was sure to leave marks.

Lennier clenched his teeth and swallowed, but it was far from the worst part. The worst part was how much he enjoyed the pleasure on Morden's face and those compliments. It was all the little recognitions he would never get from _her_.

Morden finally stared back down at him. He pressed a finger beneath his chin. "It's time for your reward, Lennier."

He guided Lennier up into a kiss. It lasted too long, maybe not long enough. Morden bit Lennier's bottom lip before moving to his neck. The way he sucked at his skin released a moan from Lennier's throat, louder than he'd care to own up to. It wasn't just the stimulation that caused it; it was the thought of Morden marking him, a way of saying " _mine_ " and claiming what no one else would.

Once his robes were off, Morden grinned against him as he pressed him against the bed's slant. His lips weren't cold. No, they were warm and inviting. They were like what he imagined Delenn's would be, once a long time ago. But his smile was nothing like hers: her lips would've been soft and graceful as they tickled his cheek. She would've giggled through the countless rituals--the ones he'd thrown to the floor with his robes--pressing her gentle hand against his blushing skin. His heart would've fluttered. The moment would've overtaken him as their eyes locked, and then their lips would've do the same… But in reality, it was Morden's slick hands snaking down his abdomen.

He took care to tease the blue markings streaking down his ribcage. It felt like forever before his hand finally made contact lower down, causing Lennier to squirm and to cry out. Arousal washed over him in Morden's firm grasp. He needed more, needed to stop, needed Morden to finish him off already so this could be over. His eyelids slammed shut at the intensifying sensations. Every involuntary buck of his hips only made him hate himself more.

Morden pressed a thumb into his stiff cock, grazing down his shaft before gripping him with both hands. He began gently twisting in opposite directions. Lennier struggled not to let his face contort, not to give Morden that satisfaction, but it was no use. It seemed to only encourage him as he quickened his strokes.

The pleasure was so unbearable, Lennier's eyelids refused to open. He could only press his head back into the bed in an ill effort to contain himself. He was so close, so close, so--

"Turn around."

His heart sunk, but his body begged. Without hesitation, he maneuvered himself as instructed. No longer able to gaze down at Morden, he gripped the bed's sides in preparation. This new position exposed him for Morden to do whatever he pleased.

"Can't be much different on a Minbari, eh?" Morden asked, capping something shut. He eased a slick finger just inside, getting his answer from Lennier's sharp inhale.

"N-no." When Morden fingertip lightly pressed down, spirals of pleasure surged through him. He slowly slid his finger back and forth. "N-not much…"

Lennier's breathing quickened until Morden halted altogether. "Not much _what_ , Lennier?"

The word refused to form in his throat, but he needed more. He thickly swallowed while Morden's gave him the chance, stuttering out the word: "Different."

Morden rewarded him with a second finger, slightly curling it upward along with the first. As he stretched in circles **,** Lennier struggled not to bring his fingertips to his own length. The slightest touch was all it would take. Too bad Morden refused it to him. Instead of relief, Lennier gripped the bed so hard he thought it would break.

"So good, so dutiful, so willing," he listed in rhythm with his motions. "Tell me, Lennier: how does it feel? Knowing that, instead of _her_ … You're stuck with me."

If any piece of his heart had remained in-tact by now, it may as well have been dust. The shards crumbled beneath their soles as they'd stumbled inside his quarters. But part of him wished the words were still sharper. He preferred the pain over the numbness and disgust now rooted in his chest.

Lower down, his cock begged to be touched, but he wouldn't beg. He wouldn't beg. Morden shifted his fingers again and it took everything in Lennier not to mouth the thought: _Please._

Another thrust.

Please.

Another--

_"Please."_

"Uh-uh," he taunted, letting the noise trail slowly. "Answer the question."

He had been so attentive with Morden and this was what he got in return. What else did he expect? Morden was Morden, and Lennier? Lennier was nothing. "It feels awful."

"Just awful?"

Between shaky breaths, he continued: "Awful, horrible, sickening, depraved."

Lennier didn't have to look to know he was grinning, relishing in his response. Morden had gotten what he wanted.

Lennier still hadn't. "N-now, please…"

"Well, since you asked nicely."

Morden's free hand gripped Lennier's cock. All it took was three merciful strokes for him to shatter. Behind the stars blanketing his vision was, of course, Delenn. Her radiant smile was gone. All that remained was disgust.

He also heard something… Something high-pitched, garbled… It was hard to tell through his haziness, especially when Morden's voice quickly pulled him away.

"I didn't think you had it in you, Lennier," Morden said, lifting his hand with one last, lingering stroke. Lennier felt like he was going to vomit. He rigidly leaned himself into the bed, unsure if he could stand. His reflection in the nearby mirror blurred into the unfamiliar. "I'm pleased to see I was wrong."

In his haze, he barely registered the bathroom sink's water rushing from the tap. When Morden returned, his belt jangled as he pulled up his pants. He straightened his tie in the mirror, blocking Lennier's reflection. Lennier could hardly react when he walked beside the bed and caressed his cheek. "Let's do this again sometime. Shall we, dear?"

He pressed a kiss against his mouth before nuzzling his head in the crook of Lennier's neck. Lennier almost let himself sink into the intimacy before Morden coolly pulled away with a laugh.

When the door hissed shut, the darkness didn't lift.

Time slipped away. He finally managed to stand sometime later, fighting the urge to burn his sheets. It would never be so simple. Morden's presence lingered in the air so strongly not even the purest incense could purge it. He was sure it would follow him if he rented another room to sleep in.

Finally, he cleaned himself up. Water from the bathroom sink splashed over his face. He let it drip down his body as if it would get rid of the marks staining his neck, splotchy against pale skin. It reminded him of Delenn’s carpet when Sheridan had knocked over that human beverage--wine? Delenn had been so sweet and understanding when it happened. Lennier had been the one to clean it up. No matter how hard he'd scrubbed, though, a faint patch refused to wash away.

Tracing his fingertips over the bruises, Lennier no longer recognized who stood before him. He leaned against the cool wall and sunk to the floor. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how badly he wanted to close his eyes and forget.

You know what else he wanted? To never see Morden again. And yet, he almost regretted letting him go. Despite the scent of his cologne thickening by the moment, his quarters felt emptier than before he'd ever answered the door. He was only glad Morden was no longer here to enjoy him squirm, pace, or fidget with his hands as if it'd help him remember how to breathe.

He meditated in front of his couch until morning. It probably didn't count as meditation--his head was the opposite of clear. Instead, he thought about how Delenn would ask him why he couldn't sleep. She'd tell him in that soothing tone to take care of himself, she would possibly even make him some tea to start the day off right… And after what he did? He won't deserve one drop of her presence, her kindness, her _love._

He could almost hear Morden laugh. _Love? Is that what you call it? See the truth, Lennier. She'll never love you._

What he had with Morden--whatever it was--it was not love. Even _he_ could figure that one out.

But it was all someone like him deserved.

 


End file.
